


don't fight me now (you might need me later)

by Avery_Kedavra



Series: Soulmate September [8]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anxiety, Blood, Crime Fighting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Explosions, Injury, Insecurity, Knives, M/M, Morally Neutral Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Morally Neutral Deceit | Janus Sanders, Morally Neutral Logic | Logan Sanders, Multi, Scars, Violence, falling, look they're oblivious pining idiots who hate each other okay, lots of mentions/discussions of death and murder, soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate your powers disappear, they're all Trying but they're all kinda morally grey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Kedavra/pseuds/Avery_Kedavra
Summary: It had been a normal day for the city's hero, Logic. Sure, Dee showed up unannounced again and was his usual nuisance of a self. Sure, The Prince caused more collateral damage than what would have been ideal. Sure, Logic was pulled into yet another fight, because if he didn't, who else would? But that was all normal. What wasnotnormal, however, was when the Prince and Logic fell from a multi-story building. Despite the fact that they hadsuperpowers.Unfortunately, that can only mean one thing. And it's bad enough to be soulmates with your worst enemies, but they're alsopowerless.Now Logan can't protect anyone, Roman's going to lose his place at the top of the pyramid, and Janus is stuck with his own face.There's really only one thing to do--team up and figure out how to undo fate.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Soulmate September [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907623
Comments: 16
Kudos: 120





	don't fight me now (you might need me later)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember how self-indulgent my last fic was? It has now been surpassed. Superheroes! Flirty superheroes! Enemies-to-lovers! Parentheses in the title! Anyway, might be the...angstiest thing I’ve written yet for this month, and also the longest, because I just love superheroes, okay? Oh, and I got some dialogue and general encouragement from @becca-becky! You’re the best, Becs! <3
> 
> (Title from Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie. Find me on Tumblr at @averykedavra!)

It was a lovely, peaceful day. The clouds clustered over the city streets and the cars trundled back and forth. The windows were wide open to catch the breeze, which smelled like smog and old pizza, but it was better than the usual static air that clung to the roads and the buildings. Most people in the city were at work, or strolling along the sidewalks, or setting up stands in the sprawling farmer’s market to the west. A ‘perfect’ day was probably unachievable, but Logan guessed this was pretty close.

That was why he was ninety-percent certain there would be an explosion.

The best viewpoint for witnessing such an event was high up. So he’d commandeered his usual rooftop, which belonged to what might have been a tax firm at some point. He wasn’t sure if it was technically legal to sit on this roof. But there was no way anyone could reach Logan without him seeing, and by this point, he was an expert at avoiding confrontation.

Besides, superheroes could do what they liked.

Logan hadn’t brought his phone. Phones tended to get destroyed in fights. Also, he didn’t want to be tracked--a remote possibility, but he had fought some technology-based villains in the past, and one could never be too cautious.

Still, as the afternoon droned on, he found himself wishing for it. Perhaps he could work on his taxes or read a book. This was ridiculously tedious. Why hadn’t anything _happened_ yet?

It was on days like these that Logan wished for a sidekick, a partner, even an assistant on the ground. Doing his own surveillance was spotty at best and boring at worst. He was relatively sure he’d be able to see any activity from here, but if the Prince tried something new--

No, he was ridiculously predictable. Logan would almost think he _wanted_ to be caught.

Logan squinted at the skyline. No signs of dust or clouds, no screams, only one ambulance that was careening out of the city towards the suburbs. Everything was calm and quiet, almost enough for Logan to believe that he _was_ wrong, that his nemesis had taken a break.

If Logan had a partner--had _anyone_ \--he could do sweeps of the city. He could have a communication system, he could--

Logan shook himself. There were reasons he didn’t work with anyone else, and he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? The most respected superhero in the city. Also the one with the lowest casualty count, although the fight with Amber Arrow had put a dent in that.

Sometimes, things just didn’t go perfectly.

Logan was still getting used to that.

He leaned over the edge of the building and craned his neck. He probably looked ridiculous. In costume, staring into the sky, legs dangling over the edge. He was also at risk of falling. Logan wasn’t afraid of heights--it would be hard to be, since he spent so much time in them, but once again, caution won out. He scooted back from the edge and ran a hand along the sunwarmed stone, listening to the thrum of engines.

“Come here often?”

Logan jerked, his hand coming up to his side. A young woman with shocking auburn hair and dark skin was strolling towards him, looking as if she was out for an afternoon walk. On top of a building.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“How rude!” she-- _he_ \--gasped. “Do you always turn away citizens in need?”

“The only thing you need is a jail cell.”

“Rude,” Dee said again, sitting next to Logan and kicking his legs out. Logan turned away and did his best to ignore Dee. It was hard. Dee made it very difficult for anyone to ignore him, especially with that _hair_.

"How’d you recognize me, Lo?” Dee asked.

“You wanted me to,” Logan said shortly.

“I didn’t,” Dee said, smirking. That was a blatant lie. If Dee wanted to go undercover, Logan wouldn’t know who he was until Dee’s knives were in his back.

“Quite a look,” Logan remarked after a few moments of silence, when it became clear that Dee wasn’t going to leave. “Not very clandestine.”

“When I can look however I want, why settle for monotony?” Dee kicked his legs out and twirled a lock of hair. “Anyway, there’s no one to hide from up here, unless--” He pressed a hand to his mouth in mock shock. “Unless _you_ would be so bold as to arrest me?”

Logan sighed. “I have bigger concerns at the moment. Besides, we’re at least tangentially on the same side.”

“Says who?”

“The media.”

“The media,” Dee repeated, smirking. “You’ve hated the media ever since they gave you that name, Lo.”

Logan huffed. He still, admittedly, was annoyed about that. Astrological, although a good pun in some ways, was nonetheless a _pun_. Besides, astrology was a ridiculous venture that besmirched the good name of science. Everything could be explained rationally--even soulmates, the usual argument of so-called astrologists. It was an evolutionary defect, nothing more and nothing less.

_Astrological_. Ridiculous. At least they often shortened it to Logic, which wasn’t so bad.

“You should talk,” Logan decided to say, because he was bored and a little bit irritated and needling at Dee was always a fun past-time. “ _Deceit_.”

“I think it fits me,” Dee said smoothly. He said everything smoothly. He spoke without hesitation, but as if he’d already planned the whole conversation, answering questions he knew Logan would ask. It was unsettling. Dee was unsettling, with his sparkling eyes and shifting appearance and ability to get on a roof without being spotted.

“So,” Dee said idly, “what ‘bigger concerns’ are there for you today, Lo?”

“You know what concerns,” Logan said. “Why are you asking?”

“You’re no fun.” Dee crossed his arms and looked out over the city. The wind blew his hair about, a mass of curls, glinting in the pale sun. He was wearing his usual black outfit with yellow accents, and Logan knew all too well that several knives were locked within the stitches, ready to be unsheathed if Logan so much as _breathed_ wrong. “Any sign of him?”

“You’d know,” Logan said again, aware that was the _point_ , aware that Dee was stringing him along once again, but unable to stop himself. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Comes with the territory.” Dee swung a hand over the edge and waved at the cars. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

Logan sighed. “I hoped if I didn’t, you would leave.”

“Ouch,” Dee drawled.

“Besides, I’m assuming it’s the same thing I am.” Logan gave Dee a quick glance before scouring the horizon again. No sign of him. “Why else would you be here?”

“I could be here to kill you.”

“Then why talk to me?”

“To make it entertaining.” Dee held out for a second longer before laughing. “I’m kidding. Of course I’m kidding. I have--what did you say-- _bigger concerns_ , darling.”

Logan shifted. “I’m glad you have _some_ sense of justice.”

“I’m _all_ justice, Lo, don’t you know me?” Dee gave him a wolfish smile. “Justice just looks a little different when it’s in my hands instead of a goody-two-shoes wannabe hero.”

“You’re still going after the villain.”

“Because he’s currently a bigger threat,” Dee said. “Rest assured, you’re as bad as each other, and when I’m done with him, you’re next.”

The threat should have made Logan angry, or terrified. But he had heard it a million times before. Dee wouldn’t kill him until the Prince was out of the picture, so for now, they were begrudging allies.

Logan shouldn’t let Dee even be _that_. Consorting with vigilantes was a terrible move, both morality-wise and safety-wise. Still, getting rid of Dee was like getting rid of a particularly clingy barnacle. Dee was here, for better or for worse, and the only way to get rid of him would be to fight him.

Logan wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

He was eighty-percent sure he’d win--he was _powerful_ , and he’d gone out of his way to stay away from anyone who might be his soulmate, and Dee was growing more and more recognizable in his various disguises as Logan got to know him--but there was always that twenty percent.

And Logan knew, in his heart, that Dee would keep coming back. Dee couldn’t be confined by jails, normal or powered or otherwise. Dee could find his _soulmate_ and he’d still manage to be a nuisance.

The only way to get rid of him, for good, would be to kill him.

Logan wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

“What’s on your mind?” Dee teased, bringing Logan back down to reality. He’d just zoned out with an enemy next to him--a foolish oversight on his part.

“How to get you to leave,” Logan said. “And if you’ll be interfering with the fight later.”

“What fight?” Dee asked. “Will there be a fight?”

Logan sighed and watched the buildings for a telltale red flash. “There’s always a fight.”

“Then yes,” Dee said. “Someone has to protect the innocent civilians.”

“So you won’t be on my side,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “I should have figured.”

“I’m on my own side, Lo.” Dee shrugged. “If it’s any comfort, like I said, Princey is the priority.”

Logan paused and decided to dive head-first into an argument he’d posed many times before. “Have you ever considered--”

“Not being a vigilante,” Dee finished, rolling his eyes. “I know your opinion on this, Lo.”

“But if you would--”

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” Dee said, standing up. His hair flew around him, and the golden sun slipped over his skin, making him gleam in stark relief against the city. “Too much power runs unchecked, and you forget what it’s like without it. I’m just finding targets that need _corralling_ , and I’m doing what needs doing.”

“And I’m a target?” Logan squared his shoulders. “Why, because I haven’t found my soulmate? Because I irritate you? The Prince is ten times as bad, why am I even on your list?”

“You’re as bad as each other,” Dee said, like he’d said a million times.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, like he’d said a million times.

He knew how this argument ended, and it hurt every time, and yet he always fell into it again. Logan was as predictable as the villains he fought, something Dee always pointed out. Everything was so predictable. Logan was a hero, he fought villains, and Dee was always there in the shadows to remind Logan of how fragile his pedestal was.

Logan could avoid everyone he knew to keep from touching his soulmate. Logan could fight every day and night until he was covered in bruises the next morning. Logan could win again and again, but one day, he was going to lose.

And Dee would be there, saying “I told you so.”

Dee would always be there, and Logan wished he could get rid of him, and wished Dee didn’t know exactly how to hurt him.

Logan braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“You’re both murderers,” Dee said, and if Logan didn’t know him as well as he did, he wouldn’t hear the steel in Dee’s voice. “Only difference is, Princey owns it.”

“You’re one to talk,” Logan said weakly, and at this point that jab should stop _hurting_.

Every time. Every time, it knocked the breath from Logan’s lungs. Logan curled his fingers around the edge of the roof, knowing Dee could see his discomfort and was reveling in it.

Every time. Logan should stop letting Dee get to him, but that would mean turning on Dee, and Logan wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“It’s not _murder_ ,” Dee complained. “Not if they deserved it. It’s just...death by natural causes, if blades count as natural.”

“They don’t.” Logan sighed. “Besides, he--”

“Deserved it,” Dee finished, and for a second, the smirk was gone from his face. “You’ve told me.”

“You’re the one asking questions you know the answer to,” Logan said. “I don’t know why you think I’d say something different.”

“I don’t know.” Dee looked at the cars below. “Maybe I’m just holding out hope.”

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. He settled for giving Dee an annoyed look and returning to his vigil. The city was quiet. Logan found himself hoping that the Prince wouldn’t show up, and Logan could just sit here, not needing to fight anyone.

A foolish wish. He’d chosen this and there was no turning back now. If it wasn’t him protecting the city, who else would step up?

He felt Dee’s eyes on him. He definitely wasn’t leaving Dee unchecked--he shuddered to think of the systems Dee would topple if he wasn’t focused on taunting Logan.

Logan had sacrificed his life for this--his day job, his social life, the possibility of his soulmate. His best friend.

And maybe one day, he’d give up. Or lose. One of the two.

But not yet.

Logan’s eyes widened as a flash of red lit up the sky, followed by an explosion. Then came the screams, right on schedule. He really was predictable.

Despite himself, Logan found his mouth curving in a smile.

“There you are,” he said, pushing off the roof and letting the wind catch him.

He glanced back at the roof. Dee was already gone. Logan knew he’d be back soon enough--probably getting in the middle of things again, or skating on the edge of the fight, blades gleaming. Dee was tough to get rid of.

Still, Dee couldn’t fly.

So Logan would have a few glorious moments to himself, and he intended to make the most of them.

Ahead of him, the sky was lit up a bloody shade of red.

\---

On days like this, Roman fervently wished real life had a soundtrack.

All of his evil plans were dramatic and fabulous and evil, but they’d be even more dramatic and fabulous and evil with a dramatic, fabulous, and evil accompaniment. He’d considered hiring a musician to play his theme song whenever he entered, but said musician would probably get killed by debris, and that would be kind of nasty. Roman didn’t like getting people killed unless it was absolutely necessary, or just easier on him.

So sadly, Roman was left soundtrack-less. He simply had to imagine it as he dashed through the debris, a smudge of pastel-pink ahead of him. He lifted a hand and crumbled the wall behind him, red lightning darting over the stones as it shuddered into place. No escape.

Heroes weren’t supposed to run, but this one was. Roman couldn’t blame them--he was extremely intimidating at all times. Also, they seemed like a younger one. Roman would have let them turn tail--they weren’t the real target here--but they might alert the police.

Although, most likely, the police had heard the explosion. It had been rather large.

Well. Never mind, then. Roman skidded to a stop. The hero glanced back and stopped, probably assuming he was plotting something devious. Roman gave them a lazy grin.

Their eyes widened and they stumbled backwards, raising a hand. Fire powers. Weak ones at that. Their hand glowed and they sent a beam towards Roman, who dodged easily.

“Come on now, run,” Roman said, shooing at them. “Go on. This doesn’t concern you.”

Another blast of fire, even weaker than the first. Roman watched it curl into nothingness. He winced as they stumbled--they’d _already_ overtaxed themselves? Roman almost felt bad for them.

“Are you going to leave?” Roman asked slowly.

A third blast of fire. The hero was trembling, but no, they weren’t.

Roman really wanted to let them go. He didn’t care about some newbie with a flashy pink costume. Besides, he’d been there, a long time ago. Just on the opposite side.

Then again, if word got around that he’d gone soft, he’d be the one trapped in a burning building.

Roman flicked his fingers.

A section of ceiling slammed into them and sent them collapsing to the ground. Their head hit the floor with a crack and the fire died in their hand.

Roman winced in sympathy. Roofs being dropped on one’s head were never fun.

They’d be fine. Probably. Maybe.

Either way, it wasn’t Roman’s problem.

Roman paused to cough--why did buildings have to be so _smoky_ when they exploded--and muscled his way between gaping pipes and crumbled piles of building. He probably could have done this without an explosion, if he really tried. However, explosions were _dramatic_. And they erased like five steps from the _enter-a-building-and-rob-it_ list. Enter the building? Very easy when there was no longer a door, or a front wall, or a ceiling.

Now he just had to rob it.

He’d been studying the blueprints. Well, he’d glanced at them while eating a donut. But everything looked different when he was on the ground, and several walls seemed to have changed places in the explosion. Whoops. Maybe if he just went in the general direction of the center of the building, he’d find the safes?

Maybe.

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be getting, of course. It was best to avoid asking questions and just get the job done. While making it look like this was entirely his idea, of course.

Because it was! Totally. He cared so much about...whatever it was that he was stealing.

Hey, it was steal one thing every few weeks or work for them full-time, and Roman didn’t really like being a team player.

_And_ this meant he got to have some fun.

Speaking of which...

Roman spun on his heel, squinting through the dust. He levitated a pipe next to him and sent it flying into the clouds, lighting its way. It hit a brick wall and fell to the ground. He was alone, for now.

Boo. It was never any fun until his esteemed nemesis showed up.

Roman dragged his feet down the hallway, listening for the telltale whoosh of air. Logic thought he was all sneaky, but Roman could always hear him coming. Not that Roman could judge. His powers were definitely flashy.

Awesome, though.

Roman lifted a stone and punched through the wall, stepping through the gash it left behind. He grinned. Definitely awesome.

Top _that_ , Logic, he thought--

And _there_ came the whoosh.

Roman should have known insulting the guy, even in his head, would be enough to get him here.

A pipe came sailing through the air, fast as a bullet. Roman threw out his hand and stopped it. Lightning sunk into the metal and burned it apart, bit by bit. It fell into a pile at Roman’s feet.

Roman turned around and gave his nemesis a dazzling smile. “You’ll have to try harder than that, villain.”

Logic rolled his eyes, the only part of his body that Roman could see. “Don’t call me that,” he complained, like always.

“Why not?” Roman teased, sticking one hand behind him and levitating a chunk of rock. It wouldn’t fool Logic, but it was still worth a shot. “You’re my foil, my enemy, my esteemed nemesis--”

“So I’ve heard.” Logic ducked as a piece of roof crashed to the ground. The whole building was little more than a burned-out shell at this point, and if Roman wanted, he could tear the whole thing down with one hand.

It was fun, though, to drag things out.

“We meet again,” Roman announced, puffing up his chest. “Who, tonight, shall be the victor?”

“It’s afternoon,” Logic said.

“It’s a figurative night,” Roman ad-libbed on the spot, because he wasn’t about to admit that he’d forgotten it was still afternoon. “The night of this city as hope dims and integrity is destroyed, piece by piece.”

“Mm-hmm.” Logic nodded. “Integrity. The integrity of destroying government property, for instance.”

“You get it!” Roman snapped his fingers and grinned. “There’s hope for you after all.”

“It was sarcasm,” Logic muttered.

“I rescind my previous statement.”

Logic rolled his eyes again. He did that a lot. Maybe because it was the only way he could communicate, since his whole face was covered. “Are you done, or--”

“Not even close!” Roman exclaimed. “Villain, I have much more to say!”

He didn’t, of course, but he had four or five backup speeches memorized, and he could just pick and choose from those!

“Go ahead, then.” Logic raised an eyebrow. Roman grinned. Logic was bound to listen to him out of common courtesy--a superhero needed to hear a villain out, after all, and figure out if they could be redeemed.

Roman couldn’t and wouldn’t be redeemed. But Logic always followed the rules, so Logic would listen anyway, pretending he cared what Roman had to say.

Hey, Roman didn’t mind a captive audience.

“Now, my dear villain,” Roman said, enjoying the way Logic’s face twitched. “I shall tell you my reasons for robbing the city bank--”

Logic blinked. “This isn’t the city bank.”

“What? Yes it--”

“No, the bank was last week.” Logic pointed at the roof that was nothing but a patch of smoky sky, raining plaster and dripping dust. “This is a government building.”

“Wh--” Roman mentally rewound the past week or so. “Oh yeah! Sorry, I got my scripts all messed up, gimme a sec--”

Logic somehow managed to look even more annoyed. “Oh, by all means, take your time.”

Roman nodded and shuffled his speeches around in his head. He practiced most of them in the mirror, but it was one thing to belt them out in the early morning, and yet another to remember them when in a smoky building, facing down his nemesis.

"I’ll take you down,” Roman finally said. Simple and a little boring, but it would hopefully do the trick.

“Will you?” Logic stepped forward, and a glint rose in his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

“Attack me anyway,” Roman dared him.

“There are rules.”

“A villain like you has no need for rules,” Roman said, just because it would annoy Logic. The guy wasn’t actually a villain. He was the most heroic person Roman had ever met.

Which made him really freaking _boring._

And made him a good challenge.

Roman waved at Logic, who hadn’t taken another step. Nothing new, but Roman figured that one day, he’d break. Roman was well-practiced at being annoying, and if he could annoy someone into villainy, that’d be the _best_ thing to put on his resumé.

“Attack me,” Roman said.

“Are you challenging me?” Logic asked, every word clearly enunciated. As if he was making sure the microphones caught his oh-so-heroic restraint. Seriously, couldn’t Roman’s nemesis take a break once in a while? Let down his hair? Do some murder? It’d probably be good for him.

Roman took a deep breath and held up his hands.

“Yes,” he said.

The word was barely out of his mouth before Logic was on him, a gust of wind sweeping Roman up and sending him flying towards the wall.

Roman twisted around and kicked off the wall. He waved a hand. Several tons of drywall tore themselves away from the building and lunged at Logic. Logic dove out of the way just in time. They slammed into the ground and lightning spasmed, painting the whole scene blood-red.

Logic flew at him. Roman caught a glimpse of metal as Logic’s sword slipped into his hand. Three feet. Two inches across. Roman knew that sword way too well.

Logic slashed at Roman’s stomach. Roman dipped out of the way and threw out a hand, twisting Logic’s wrist. Logic barely flinched.

A gust of wind met Roman.

Roman stumbled backward. He threw up a wall in front of him and caught his breath.

Logic vaulted over the wall and landed, swords gleaming. Roman had to hand it to him--he looked _good_ , like this, mid-fight. Eyes practically glowing, dark hair cropped close, and suit snug in all the right ways. Plus the _sword_ , and Roman was _weak_ for swords, this was unfair--

Said sword swung at his head. Roman was uncomfortably reminded that they were currently trying to kill each other. He put the gay on hold and pulled up a few projectiles, sparking crimson and flying at Logic. Logic cut the first in half and blasted the rest away with a gust of wind.

Logic could do more than this. But he was probably afraid of the building collapsing around them.

The smart thing would be to use this to Roman’s advantage.

But Roman liked watching Logan push his limits.

Roman rolled through a gap in the wall. He climbed a crumbling chimney to the roof and ran down a somewhat-intact section. He was several stories above ground. Cars squealed below him, skidding around the rubble. The police were already massed at the parking lot. A helicopter looped them and Roman threw a hand at it without thinking. It careened towards the bay, barely missing the bridge and coming to an unsteady stop somewhere by the docks. Roman smirked.

The ring of sword against stone made Roman turn around. Logic had stabbed his sword into the roof, dangling from it. He swayed left and kicked up, pulling himself to the roof. A quick roll, and he was upright, leveling his sword at Roman.

“It’s over,” Logic said.

“No, it’s not,” Roman said, because if Logic was going to be cliche, so was Roman. “We’re just getting started, villain.”

“You know, Princey,” said a new voice, “for once, you make a good point.”

Roman looked over at the edge of the roof. A man with bleach-blond hair and deep green eyes was swinging knives from his hands, smirking.

“Oh, great,” Roman complained. “You again.”

“Come on!” The smirk turned to a pout. “Why does _everyone_ recognize me today?”

“It’s just the vibe,” Roman said, waving a hand at Deceit. “All sneaky and snaky. You’re a reptilian rapscallion in whatever shape you take.”

“You wound me,” Deceit said idly, strolling over and giving Logic a little wave. Logic glared back.

“Also,” Logic pointed out, his words clipped, “you are carrying your knives.”

“Oh.” Deceit shrugged and slipped into a fighting stance. “I suppose I just got overeager.”

“For what, defeat?” Roman waved a hand. “This is a private fight, so unless you’re going to help me murder my nemesis, please skedaddle.”

“I could,” Deceit said, looking over at Logic. “He _is_ a prick.”

“I know, right?”

Logic sighed. “Dee, enough kidding around.”

“But that’s half the fun of this job!” Deceit rolled his eyes and turned to Roman.

Roman barely stepped back before Deceit was there, knives slashing centimeters from Roman’s chest. He stopped one in midair, lightning running up and down the length. Before Deceit could tug it free, Roman kicked Deceit in the chest and ran.

There wasn’t anywhere to run, though. They were standing on the last section of roof, and it shook beneath Roman’s feet. He tried to stabilize it, but there were too many moving parts, so he settled for lodging a pillar under it.

Deceit stumbled to his feet again. And he was running again, knives out. Logic was on Roman’s left, a tornado brewing in his hands--there, there was the stuff Roman enjoyed, just not when he was on top of a collapsing building. Roman threw himself sideways as a blast of wind sent him flying. He grabbed the edge of the roof and swung himself back on top.

Logic on one side, Deceit on the other.

Well, only one of them was out to kill him, right? So easy choice.

Roman lunged at Logic, rocks sharpening themselves as they flew, headed for his heart. He knew Logic could get rid of those easily, but he had no energy for anything else. He was listening to the building beneath him as it creaked and shuddered.

He was never using an explosion again.

Somewhere down there was what he needed, he knew that. He could do his job and hopefully get everyone off his back, or he could make a break for it.

Or he could fight. Again. He could throw all his cards on the table and enjoy the feeling, the brief feeling, of being on top of the world.

Roman felt power thrum through his fingertips and smiled.

The roof ruptured. A chasm grew between him and the other two. Deceit backed away, hands on his knives like he could fight a collapsing building. Logic took a running leap and landed on Roman’s side, feet from him. His eyes were narrowed. Wind blew around his feet, a hurricane waiting to be unleashed.

Roman had never seen Logic use all of his power. One day, he hoped to be lucky enough to see it.

He’d probably be on the receiving end, of course, but it would still be fun to witness. To know, for an instant, that he was the one who made Logic lose control.

Someday, but apparently, not yet.

Logic lunged at Roman and Roman dodged, grabbing his arm and tugging Logic forward. They were inches from the edge of the roof. Below, cars milled about and people yelled at each other. It was a long way down.

Deceit still paced back and forth, watching them with shifty green eyes. He was making no effort to follow them. Roman didn’t blame him. The building was falling apart around them. Roman’s powers sparked weakly in the corners, but the lightning faded, leaving nothing but the bright golden glow of late afternoon.

The sun was setting between the buildings, making windows catch fire and the sky deepen in hue. Clouds, tinged with gold and pink and silver, drifted above. Below, the alleyways of the city were already cool and shadowed. It would be a long night, and doubtless Logic would be in the thick of it.

Sometimes Roman worried that Logic would get hurt. Or killed. That was unacceptable--the only person allowed to kill Logic was Roman.

And the only person allowed to kill Roman was Logic.

It would be one or the other, and Roman had known that from day one, and he still kept coming back. Because--why? Because he didn’t have anything else to do with his life? Because Logic was fun and sarcastic and kind of a snack? Because Roman always itched for a fight, a spectacle, a chance to show off? What was the use of power if he didn’t show it, if he didn’t use it to bend the world to his will, to claw his way to the top of the heap?

What was the use of power if he let it go, for the sake of true love, of mercy?

What was the use of power if he didn’t use it?

Logic wouldn’t get it, of course. Even now, balanced on the edge of the roof, Logic wasn’t even trying to push him off it. Wasn’t even trying to tear him into pieces, rob him of breath, pull the clouds around them into a tempest. Logic could do so many things, Roman could feel it, and yet he contented himself with this. Cheap masquerades and flimsy heroics and rules that only hurt him.

That’s why Roman was the bad guy. He had never played well with rules, and being a hero had never been his calling.

Besides, everyone loved the villain.

“Compromising position,” Roman said as Logan placed the sword under his chin. The blade was cool against Roman’s throat. Logan’s eyes were cooler-- _cold_ , the same intense cold he always got when he was too wrapped up in a fight. Roman would be lying if it wasn’t kind of terrifying, in the best way possible.

The sword got a bit too close to some sensitive veins. Roman stepped back, except there wasn’t a _back_ to step to. His foot skidded on open air. His eyes widened and he scrambled for purchase.

Logic’s hand whipped out and grabbed Roman’s sash. Wind whipped around Roman and kept him still, half-fallen off the side of the building. The road hummed below them.

Logic pulled Roman closer, sword sneaking around to cup the back of Roman’s neck.

“You saved me,” Roman teased. “Knew you couldn’t resist my dashing looks--”

“Surrender,” Logic said.

“All business with you, isn’t it?” Roman wriggled closer to the open air and enjoyed the wind that cupped his waist and shoulders. It was like a cushion. He’d never had Logic hold him up before.

“Surrender,” Logic repeated.

“Or what?” Roman asked.

Logic blinked a few times, and Roman could tell he hadn’t thought of that part.

“Or what?” Roman repeated, grabbing Logic’s waist and tugging him further over. “You’ll kill me?”

Logic’s eyes hardened. “Maybe.”

Roman gasped. “What? Really? How could you possibly justify such an atrocious action?”

“You’re a villain.”

“Really?” Roman pulled Logic even closer, reveling in the fact that Logic was _letting_ him. “And here I thought I was your hero.”

“You’re no one’s hero but your own, I’m afraid.” Logic took a step forward of his own. Roman lifted himself up on his tiptoes and leaned out even more. They were practically horizontal at this point. Logic’s sword dug into Roman’s neck, colder than the air around them. Deceit was nowhere to be seen--he was missing out, Roman thought idly, though on _what_ he wasn’t really sure.

“I could drop you,” Logic warned, flexing his fingers on Roman’s sash.

“Then do it.”

“What?”

“Do it,” Roman said, grinning. “Drop me.”

Logic’s eyes widened, just for a second, and Roman counted that as victory.

“Drop me,” Roman repeated. “Go ahead, let go.”

“I could,” Logic said, unconvincingly.

“You could do a lot of things.” Roman pulled himself so close to Logic that he could make out every fleck in his eyes. “You won’t, though, will you?”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough. It’s been too long for me not to.”

“You don’t--” Logic’s hand fisted on Roman’s sash. The winds sliced at Roman’s skin. “I _could_.”

“Then do it.” Roman grinned wider. “Surprise me. God knows I could use the excitement.”

“I could drop you right now and--”

“Do it!” Roman started to laugh. “Do it, then! Stop talking yourself in a circle and actually _drop_ me, villain, without catching me halfway down. Stop being a hero and just _drop_ me, I _dare_ you.”

Logic looked away.

“Thought so.” Roman reached up and ran a hand along the line of Logic’s mask, the only strip of skin Roman could see. “You’re really predictable, you know that?”

Logic’s eyes widened.

The air around them thudded back to normal. Normal, cool, and not solid at all. Just a slice of late evening sky, far above the pavement.

And gravity hit.

And Roman’s sash tore across the center, leaving Logic grasping a piece of red fabric.

And Roman fell.

And Logic reached for him, and Roman reached for his own power, and nothing came. He was empty and powerless and cold in the wind.

Roman fell, and the last thing he saw was Logic slipping off the edge.

\---

Janus was used to fights. Breaking up fights, when they were normal scuffles, just fists against fists. Joining fights, when there were powers involved, and he needed to minimize civilian casualties. Ending fights, usually by incapacitating one or both of the people involved.

Starting fights? He never started fights. He just finished them.

Janus had fought a million people, and yet, Logic and Princey _intrigued_ him.

Perhaps that’s why he kept coming to try and kill them.

He could have stayed home today. Or he could have started attacking that corrupt firm up north, or patrolled the streets. He didn’t have to babysit these two idiots again, and he knew as well as anyone that he couldn’t kill them yet.

Still, he’d come here, and he told himself it was out of duty, but Janus couldn’t lie to himself.

He didn’t figure he’d regret it.

Now? He did.

They’d just fallen off the _roof_.

The two of them had been sparring, exchanging blows and flirting, and being as ridiculously gay as they usually were. Everything had seemed in-control, so Janus had slipped down to the street below, shepherding the people away from the rubble.

Then they’d _fallen_.

If he hadn’t seen it himself, he wouldn’t have believed it.

See, the little problem with this event was that _Logic could fly_. And although Logic might be a little too ruthless for his own good, he would never drop _Princey_. For all of his talk about justice, Logic was weak for that villain. Janus could tell.

Yet they’d fallen nonetheless. They’d plummeted out of the sky and hit the pavement with a sickening _thunk_.

A fall from that height could have killed them both.

Janus didn’t hesitate. He ran over to them.

He scrabbled for purchase on the rubble. Dust coated his legs and his blades. People were running over, the medics, the police--oh, come _on_. This was going to be a media fiasco in a few seconds, especially if they were really dead. Janus should get out of here _now_.

With a thought, he lengthened his hair and dyed the tips blue, giving himself an upturned nose and tons of freckles. It wouldn’t fool anyone who knew vigilantes, but it would buy him a few seconds of anonymity, which was more than enough for Janus’ needs.

He vaulted over a crumbled wall and knelt in the little crater they’d left behind. Both were covered in dust. Blood dripped from Princey’s eyes, his mask askew, his sash shredded. Logic’s head lolled on the rock, his dark hair whitened by the plaster, his extended hand clutching a piece of red fabric.

It hit Janus, very suddenly, that this was real. Unless a villain with illusion powers had appeared, they were right _here_. Dead, or nearly. Lying at his feet as if he’d killed them himself, with the knives in his hands, like he’d tried to a million times.

It must have been the dust that choked him up.

Janus walked over on trembling feet. “Hey,” he managed, “don’t go dying on me now, I won’t have a chance to kill you.”

Princey shifted. “Rude,” he mumbled, hand coming up to wipe at his mouth.

A strange emotion ricocheted through Janus. He kept his face neutral and raised his knives.

“Oh, come on,” Princey complained, focusing on Janus. “Gimme a second to get up, why don’t you? It’s undignified to die lying down.”

Janus looked down at his knives and back at Princey. It would be so easy, just a slash--

Princey pulled himself up, blood smearing on his skin as he sat upright. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, but when he looked up, his eyes were clearer.

“Where’s--”

Janus inclined his head in Logic’s direction.

Princey turned and swore. Logic was still lying there, a shift of the rubble by his chest the only indication of his breathing. His arm lay across his chest.

Princey poked at him and he shifted a bit, but his eyes remained closed.

“Hey. Hey, villain. Hey.” Princey poked him again. “Get up. Hey.”

“Yes, keep needling him, he can _totally_ hear you.” Janus stepped forward. “Can you move aside so--”

“Don’t _kill_ him!” Princey burst out. He blinked, seeming as surprised by the outburst as Janus was. But he recovered himself quickly. “ _I_ want to kill him.”

“Then do it,” Janus said.

“Not _now_.” Princey groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. “Right now I’m heading home and patching myself up. I feel like--”

“Like you fell off a roof,” Janus finished. “I wonder why.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Princey looked at Logic again. “Did he-- _drop_ me?”

“I’m assuming,” Janus said, although the words felt oily on his tongue. “What else could have happened?”

“But he grabbed for me,” Princey said, his voice distant. “He tried to--”

Janus stared at Logic’s broken form on the rocks.

None of this made _sense_. Janus wanted answers. He wanted someone to stab, perhaps several someones. Instead, he had an unconscious “hero” and an injured “villain” and medical personnel already clambering over the rubble towards them.

It would be so easy to kill them.

Well, he couldn’t do it in plain sight like this, could he?

“We need to get out,” Janus said, walking closer to Logic. He knelt down and checked Logic’s pulse. Steady but weak. Logic’s skin was cold beneath his own, and Janus suddenly felt unsteady, as if his skin was peeling away.

“I can--” Princey turned to the approaching people and raised a hand. Nothing happened. “Ugh. I guess I’m out of juice or something.”

“Imagine, not being at your best after falling off a building,” Janus pointed out. He looked around. “Can you walk?”

“Yes?” Princey took a step and immediately tripped. “Maybe. Sort of.”

Janus sighed. “That will have to be good enough. We’re going to head somewhere quiet, dark, and preferably empty. Perhaps a nearby alley.”

“Why?” Princey asked. “You planning to kill us?”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Princey shrugged. “Guess I will.”

Without hesitation, he started to climb the rocks around them. Janus stared after him, wondering if Princey was usually this brazen towards possible death, or if the fall had given him a concussion. Or, even more terrifying, Princey didn’t view Janus as a threat.

This was good, of course. It made things easier on Janus in the end. He could just drag the two of them into an alley, make quick work of them, and leave in yet another face--

Janus pressed his lips together. Princey was grinning at him from the top of the rubble, waving at him to come along.

Janus kneeled and slipped one hand under Logic’s shoulders and the other under his knees. He leaned back and pulled Logic into his arms.

Logic was...light. Lighter than Janus had expected. His head lolled against Janus’ shoulder and his hair fluttered with his breathing. His mask was slipping, exposing the bridge of his nose. Janus shifted him around until he felt somewhat secure that Logic wouldn’t fall out and crack his head, then levered his way to his feet.

Princey was staring at him. Janus gave him a cool glare, hoping he would leave it and not ask questions.

“Question,” Princey said anyway, because Princey lived to make Janus’ life miserable.

“I don’t care,” Janus snapped, walking towards Princey with Logic in his arms. It was slow going, and Janus’ feet skidded on the pebbles and bits of concrete. He probably looked ridiculous, in blue hair and his black uniform, carrying the city’s favorite “hero.”

“Question,” Princey repeated. “Why are you--”

“I need to get him out of here before the people come,” Janus said. “And he’s not exactly in any shape to walk.”

“Huh.” Princey had a weird look on his face. “His mask is slipping.”

“Even more?” Janus looked down. Yes, he could see the pink blush of lips. He quickly pulled it back up until it was the usual eye window. He brushed his hands over Logan’s forehead and felt dirt and blood under his fingers.

“You just--” Princey placed a hand on his own mask. “Why didn’t you--you could have figured out our secret identities!”

Janus scoffed, finally making it up to where Princey was. “I _do_ have morals.”

“And here I thought you were a kindred spirit.”

Janus smirked and didn’t say that quite honestly, he could have tracked down their real identities years ago.

It made it easy to kill people when they didn’t feel like _people_.

Princey stumbled down the other side of the rubble and Janus followed. Logic mumbled something and shifted, and Janus tightened his grip. Logic mumbled something else.

“Stop it,” Janus told him. “No moving or I drop you.”

Logic, predictably, didn’t respond.

“Everyone’s staring,” Princey said as they crossed the rubble, heading for the only intact street nearby.

“It’s fine,” Janus said. “I’m in disguise.”

“I was more worried about me,” Princey said.

“Well, good luck, then.”

“Hey!” Princey gasped and placed a hand on his chest. “And for your information, having brown hair and a scar does not make you entirely incognito, oh devious one.”

Janus smirked. “Of course it does, it--” 

His chest went cold.

He hadn’t given himself brown hair. And he’d _never_ \--

Janus’ hand came up to touch his face. A familiar ridge met his fingers, dipping from his eye and knotting next to his mouth. He knew its path way too well.

He looked down at Logic, at the bare strips of skin where his uniform rode up, touching Janus’ own.

They’d never touched before, had they?

“Deceit?” Princey asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you--”

“Fine,” Janus snapped. “I’m fine.”

“You look--” Princey pointed at Janus’ face, Janus’ hands, and just the entirety of Janus. “Nervous.”

_Nervous_ was just a _bit_ of an understatement, wasn’t it?

Janus was _exposed_. He was laid bare in the afternoon sun. Princey hadn’t made any comments about the scar, but that’s because Princey thought this was just another disguise, another face Janus wore to get what he wanted.

He’d never gotten what he wanted in this face, and he’d hoped dearly to never wear it again.

He rubbed at the line of his scar, unable to stop himself.

“Deceit?” Princey asked again, and if Janus didn’t know better, he’d swear there was a tinge of worry in his tone.

Janus looked down at Logic, still unconscious in his arms, cape torn to shreds and that familiar black-and-blue costume rubbing against Janus’ fingerless gloves.

He had more important things to worry about at the moment.

“Hurry up,” Janus said, leading Princey out of the rubble.

They walked to the edge of the parking lot and stepped onto the road. Cars careened around them and people clustered at the edge. Janus had guessed that nobody would bother them, and he was right--they made it to the nearest alleyway with no further incident.

It smelled like rubbish. Janus wrinkled his nose and padded down it, Princey just a step behind him. The apartments careened into the air on either side, windows ashy, fire escapes coiling up and down the bricks like snakes. Janus kept to the shadows automatically, and as he crept between the buildings, he almost felt normal--like this was just another patrol, knives out, eyes sharp.

His hair skimmed his ears as he walked. He’d never liked this haircut and he’d never bothered to get a new one. Janus pushed his hair aside, feeling so strange about it, unused to the realness of his real hair.

He tried to shift. It was usually as easy as breathing--imagine a face, some features, and tug them into place. Janus kept an album on his phone of possible features, and it was like playing mix-and-match, like slipping on a second skin. Almost entirely thoughtless.

Now, it was like flexing a muscle he’d lost, reaching for something and finding nothing at all.

Janus felt powerless, and quite honestly, he’d never been so scared in his life.

“We, um, reached the end of the alley,” Princey pointed out, jolting Janus from his thoughts. “What do we do now?”

Janus sighed and kicked aside a garbage can. “What else can we do? See if Logic wakes up, I presume.”

“This doesn’t seem sanitary.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Janus lowered Logic onto the ground and propped up his head against the wall. He was somewhat certain one was supposed to elevate the head in case of head trauma. If not, well, they’d all find out together.

“Won’t they come after us?” Princey asked, flexing his fingers. “I’m--I’m still out of power, I can’t do anything--”

“I _do_ have knives, you know.” Janus looked Princey up and down. “You’re all out of power? That could be a sign of a concussion--how many fingers am I holding up?”

Princey looked at Janus’ hands. “You’re just flipping me off.”

“Wonderful, your head’s intact. I suppose amnesia was too much to hope for.” Janus gave Logic another check-over and swatted him on the shoulder. “Logic? Are you going to wake up?”

Logic mumbled something and swatted at Janus in return.

“He’s trying to fight me,” Janus noted. “Seems like everything’s normal.”

“So now what?” Princey asked. “I’m hungry, my whole everything hurts, and you’re gonna kill us in three seconds and I am _not_ prepared.”

“I’m not going to _kill_ you,” Janus said, rolling his eyes. “I want to figure out what happened first. And I can’t get the information until Logic wakes up.”

He didn’t add that a) he wasn’t too keen on Logic dying, period, and that b) he already had a pretty concrete idea of what had happened. However, he didn’t feel like thinking about it. At all.

What did this situation call for? Denial and fast food.

“Stay here,” Janus instructed, backing away. “Don’t kill each other. If Logic dies, bury him. If Logic wakes up, holler for me. I won’t hear you, but I bet he’ll find it entertaining.”

Princey blinked and opened his big mouth to either complain or say something very stupid. Janus, who was used to both of those events, turned and ran down the alleyway before Princey could finish.

The nearest fast food place was a gas station. The sun was setting in the sky, turning the city shades of gold, and the gas station already had its lights on. All the food was probably poisonous in several different ways, but it was _food_ , and there was most likely some medical supplies there as well.

Janus looked down at himself and his famous vigilante costume and his long, sharp knives.

He might have to make a bit of a wardrobe change.

Janus tossed his knives in a nearby alley, peeled off his uniform, and un-rumpled the t-short and shorts under it. He tried to fluff his terrible haircut into something approximating actual hair. He touched his scar and steeled himself. It was just in and out, after all. Never mind that this was the first time he’d left his house as _himself_ in years.

Janus walked up to the gas station, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

It was a small gas station. The floor was grimy and half the lights were broken, and the air smelled like bubblegum and cigarette smoke. A lone teller tapped at their phone, red hair swinging in their face. There weren’t even any other customers, and nobody was looking at him, save for the beady eye of a little store camera. Janus resisted the automatic urge to slash it in half. He was incognito right now.

Ironic.

Janus took another deep breath and padded down the halls, running his hand along the shelves. He grabbed a few bags of chips and a box of bandaids, because the station didn’t seem to have any actual medical supplies after all. Maybe Janus could put a bandaid on Logic’s head and have it magically erase any concussions.

He stopped by the soda cooler and opened it, a hiss of cool air blasting him in the face. He grabbed a few soda bottles and stuck them under his arm before closing the door again. For a second, he caught his own reflection in the glass pane--narrow brown eyes, ragged hair, and that scar.

He looked like _Janus_. And despite being only in a gas station, despite being out of costume and out of danger, he felt like his only safety net had been torn out from under him. Any moment now he could be stabbed, shot, burned, because there was no barrier between him and the rest of the city, no identity he could hide in--

Janus closed his eyes and placed his hand on the cooler, focusing on the chill. Breathe. In and out. This was fine, everything was under control, and he’d be able to fix things soon enough.

Of course, that was a blatant lie. _Soulmates_ couldn’t be _fixed_. Soulmate couldn’t be undone. Soulmates tied you down and tore you open whether you liked it or not.

Janus was only Janus now, and he was _powerless_ , and he had nowhere left to hide.

Janus swallowed, pulled the chips and soda to the counter, and let his hair fall across his face as the cashier rang him up. Their eyes still skated across his scar, and Janus pretended he didn’t notice. He ordered a hamburger as well and drummed his fingers on the counter until he was handed it. It smelled only vaguely like a hamburger. Good enough.

Janus ran all the way back. He grabbed his stuff from the trash can, tucked it under one arm, and kept to the shadows like that would hide him from himself. He almost expected his idiots to be gone from the alley when he returned, or for one of them to be lying in a pool of blood. However, he just saw Princey and Logic, right where he’d left them.

“He’s awake!” Princey declared as Janus stepped closer. “And I did not holler for you because I value my dignity!”

“I can speak for myself,” Logic complained, glaring at both of them.

“How do you feel?” Janus asked. He set the food down in front of them. Princey grabbed some chips and soda eagerly, while Logic hesitantly reached for the hamburger, wincing as his shoulder twisted.

“Easy,” Janus murmured.

“I’m fine,” Logic said. He nibbled at the hamburger and his face twisted. “This is the best you could get?”

“Don’t thank me all at once,” Janus complained. He dug his feet into the wall and scaled it to the first landing of the fire escape. He sat down and let his legs dangle through, wind playing across his skin.

Princey was gobbling chips at an alarming rate. Logic was taking small bites of hamburger and sipping at soda. Janus watched them both to make sure they weren’t going to collapse--they both seemed somewhat steady, which was good.

Good for what, he wasn’t sure. It definitely wasn’t good for attacking them. Then again, if Janus’ theories were correct, they were both powerless. He could attack them whether or not they were injured, and he’d win, because if powers weren’t in the picture Janus was the strongest and the fastest and the most skilled.

This made everything easier on him.

It also was the worst possible scenario _ever_.

Janus sighed and curled his hand around the fire escape. His fingers slipped on the metal. Of all the days to wear fingerless gloves.

He glanced down at Logic and Princey again. Logic was wiping at the dried blood on his suit. Princey was doing some hesitant stretches, chip dust around his mouth.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Janus called down without thinking.

“What do you care?” Princey fired back with a smirk.

Janus rolled his eyes instead of responding.

“Dee,” Logic said weakly.

“Yeah, Lo?”

“What are you wearing?”

Janus started and looked down at his old yellow t-shirt and black jeans. “Clothes?”

“You’re not in costume.”

“Yes, because I could totally have gone shopping in full costume, they’d give me a discount for being a hero to the city.” Janus leaned forward and tucked his chin over the fire escape. “What, like what you see?”

“Of course not,” Logic said. “I was just...surprised.”

“I don’t wear _nothing_ under the costume,” Janus pointed out.

“Anyway,” Princey interrupted. “Um. We all seem to be okay and somewhat chatty, so may I ask--what now?”

“I don’t know,” Janus drawled, “do you have any expert advice?”

“Let’s start with what happened,” Logic said, hand raising to rub at the back of his head. “I remember fighting you, on the roof? Then...we fell.”

“You did indeed fall,” Janus said. “And I caught you in my own arms and carried you to safety.”

“You did?”

“No, you both clocked your heads on the pavement like a pair of idiots.” Janus pulled at his gloves. “Anything to say for yourselves?”

“I didn’t fall on purpose!” Princey argued, folding his arms. “Logic dropped me!”

“What?” Logic’s face screwed up in an emotion Janus couldn’t name. “I _didn’t_. I would never--”

Janus opened his mouth to explain what had happened. The words died on his throat. Maybe he could just lie to them about it, until he was far enough away to escape, to run and find a new identity and never see the two of them again.

But he had a duty to the city to kill them, a duty to himself to see this through--and a duty to them to explain.

“We’re--” Janus swallowed. “Princey, did you touch Logic, by any chance? Skin-to-skin?”

“What?” Princey blinked. “Um, did I--oh! I did! But what does that--”

“Oh, no.” Logic’s voice was quiet. “Oh, no, no, _no_ \--”

“Calm down,” Janus hissed, “let me explain to Princey here--”

“No.” Logic shook his head. “No, that’s not--”

“Let me explain to _you_ , then, because unfortunately--”

“ _No!”_ Logic stumbled to his feet. “No, I can’t-- _we_ can’t--I’m not--”

“What’s happening?” Princey asked, his voice taking on a terrified edge. “What--what _happened?”_

“You both lost your powers,” Janus reported, his voice dull. “I touched Logic here, and I lost my own, so I’m assuming the three of us are soulmates.”

“What?” Princey yelled.

“No.” Logic squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, no, _no_ \--”

“Will you calm down and let me _finish?”_ Janus snapped. “This isn’t such a disaster, I’m sure there’s some way to reverse it--”

“It’s _fate!”_ Princey looked about to either cry or punch something. “You can’t fight _fate_ , Deceit, no matter what--”

“No.” Logic stared at his hands and stumbled backwards until he hit the wall with a thud. He wrapped his arms around himself, one hand seizing his sword, his eyes clamped shut.

“Hey.” Princey’s anger wavered. “Logic? You...good?”

“I can’t--” Logic’s voice choked itself off. “This can’t--”

Janus stared at him as he pressed himself into the wall, shoulders shaking.

Oh.

Princey was watching Logic with a kind of helpless worry. Logic himself looked about three seconds from falling to his knees. And Janus was still sitting on the fire escape, because it gave him several outs from the situation. It was better to be above the ground for surveillance purposes.

Janus sighed and vaulted over the fire escape, dropping to the ground in front of Logic.

“Hey.” Janus held up his hands and stepped forward. “Okay, Lo, I’m going to need you to breathe. Alright?”

Logic nodded briefly.

“In and out. Slowly.” Janus motioned at Princey to take a step back, and Princey did so, without hesitation. “You’re okay, Lo, I promise. We’re all okay right now, and we’re going to figure this out.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Logic managed, his voice tight. A ghost of a smirk flickered over his face. “I hardly call that safe.”

“I’m not killing you,” Janus said. “Not yet, anyway. We have to figure this out first.”

“What is there to figure out?” Princey asked, his voice hushed. Maybe he was trying to stay quiet so as not to overwhelm Logic. Janus found that strangely endearing. “It _happened_. We--we lost our powers. There’s no going back from that.”

Logic shuddered.

“We lost our _powers!”_ Princey burst out, apparently unable to keep himself quiet ay longer. “We _lost_ them, and what am I supposed to do _now_ , Remy is going to be pissed and this is my only source of income and I don’t want to _die_ , thank you!”

“Nobody is dying!” Janus protested, which was probably a blatant lie. But Princey and Logic being anxious was making _him_ anxious and he needed to get them to _calm down_. “I’m sure there’s a way to reverse being soulmates with someone--”

“You _can’t!”_ Princey yelled. “You can’t, we’re _stuck_ with each other, and I--” Princey’s fist slammed into the wall behind him. He swore and stuck his pinky in his mouth.

“It’s impossible,” Princey whispered when he’d stopped nursing his bruised hand. “Even for you, Mr. Smarty-Pants Deceit.”

“I don’t know,” Logic said slowly, drawing their attention. He’d mostly uncurled and his eyes were alight with a spark Janus recognized. It was the gleam of an idea. And Janus woudl be lying if he said it didn’t make him breathless with anticipation. “I think a lot of things are possible if you go to the right sources.”

“There are rumors,” Janus agreed. “In the black market, the underbelly of the city, so to speak. People can do a lot of things when nobody’s looking.”

Princey still looked skeptical, but he wasn’t punching the wall again, so that was a start.

“If we track down some of those leads,” Logic said, eyes widening, “we could possibly--”

“Ge our powers back,” Janus finished. “It would be like we’d never met in the first place.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Princey raised his hands. “I’m all for getting my super-awesome powers back, but we’re just going to trust Deceit on this? He’s literally named Deceit! This isn’t even his real face!”

Janus winced. “No. No, it is. I lost my powers too, remember?”

“Oh.” Princey paused. “I--right.”

“It’s fine.” Janus turned away, feeling his scar itch. “We’re all getting used to this.”

“He raises a fair point, though.” Logic was staring at Janus intently as if he could get all the answers he needed by parsing Janus’ eyes. Janus stared right back because he knew Logic couldn’t find a single thing. “Why are you helping us? Why--why did you help this? Is this all some sort of plot?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t tell you.” Janus looked at Princey, who also looked curious. “Oh, come on, are you two really going to question this? Would you rather I go slash-slash and lop your stupid heads off?”

“No,” Princey admitted, “but you have to admit, this seems...out of character. For you.”

“Undoing our soulmate bond serves me, too,” Janus said. “I can’t do my job in only one face.”

“Wear a mask,” Logic suggested. “It works well for me.”

“Being a shapeshifter is my _brand!”_ Janus huffed. “Besides, I--if given the opportunity, I would prefer not to look like _this_ all day. It...draws attention.”

Princey was watching him with what Janus was pretty sure was pity. He bristled.

“I like your hair,” Logic said.

Janus blinked at him. When it became clear Logic was dead serious, Janus laughed. “ _What?_ ”

“Your hair.” Logic tilted his head. “And your...face-shape? It is aesthetically pleasing.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?” Janus said incredulously.

“Yes?”

Janus stared at Logic for a few more seconds. Predictable he might be, but he also managed to surprise Janus in perhaps the best way possible.

“Well,” Janus said, recovering himself, “good to know my charms are still in working order.”

“Er, I’m the charming one here,” Princey said. “Don’t steal my thing.”

“Of course. Apologies.” Janus looked around at the alley. The sun was almost set, leaving them standing in darkness. The city would be crawling with menaces both powered and non, and usually, Logic or Janus would be in the thick or it. Or Princey would be there, one of the perpetrators.

How would things work without the city’s biggest hero and fiercest villain? Or without the vigilante who kept them both in check?

It was unfair to the city to keep things this way. Logic and Princey might be nuisances, but they were familiar nuisances, and Janus would take murderers he knew how to handle over mysterious new threats any day. Besides, Janus couldn’t even imagine life without his powers, life with only one identity, no fallbacks or shields for when people came after him.

Janus needed to fix things.

And perhaps it was impossible, like Princey said. Or perhaps not, like Logic said. Either way, they’d find out together.

It was worth a shot.

“So we’re doing this?” he clarified, looking at his two worst enemies, his _soulmates_. “We’re going to try and get our powers back.”

Princey chewed on his lip, then squared his shoulders and nodded. “I’m not going back to the bottom of the heap.”

Logic nodded to himself. “They need me. And--I can’t exactly let everything I’ve done be for _nothing_ , can I?”

“You do realize,” Janus said slowly, “we’re all going to kill each other one day.”

“Yeah, that’s the fun part!” Princey grinned. “It wouldn’t be sporting to fight an un-powered opponent!”

“We’ll kill each other,” Logic agreed. A smile flickered across his face. “But not yet.”

He held out a hand. Princey placed his on top. Both of them turned and looked expectantly at Janus.

Janus swallowed.

He wasn’t going powerless, and he wasn’t going without faces to hide in, and he wasn’t going to try this alone.

They would all kill each other--but not yet.

They all hated each other, but that wasn’t Janus’ problem.

This was the opposite of safe, but Janus couldn’t help but _try_ , because what was the use of an opportunity if he didn’t take it?

Maybe he’d regret this.

But Logic and Princey _intrigued_ him.

And how would he know unless he took the plunge?

Janus put his hand on top.

“Fantastic,” he said, and found himself smiling. “Let’s go mess with fate.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I might continue this at some point, who knows?)


End file.
